


Where Do You Go?

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for The Dark Knight Rises kink meme on LJ. </p><p>Prompt: Gordon and Blake get together post TDKR and Gordon notices Blake leaves their bed each night, one night he follows Blake, thinking he's cheating but ends up finding out Blake is the new Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he wakes to find the bed beside him empty, Gordon thinks nothing of it. He assumes Blake's in the john, rolls over and goes back to sleep.

Later he's ashamed of that, berating himself for slipping into that casual trust so easily.

He's lost one relationship to long hours, and exhaustion and, if he's completely honest, jealousy and fear. He can’t blame his wife for being jealous of his job, jealous of his devotion to the badge and the masked vigilante while the rest of Gotham is torn in their allegiances. As for the fear, he understands that all too all too well. There was regret when she left, but there was relief too.

But Gordon won't let that happen again.

* * *

The second time, the bed is cold. Gordon gets up, checks the tiny apartment, and finds nothing.

The next morning over coffee he asks. Or maybe he demands. It’s hard to tell. It’s been so long since he was truly angry.

"So where’d you go?"

Blake pushes his chair back. There's a quiet defiance in his demeanor, a resurgence of his early orphan days. He’s not going to just break and spill everything. He’s far too strong for that.

"So you're policing me now?"

There's a line between them that Gordon is always conscious of, ever since that first day Bane read his goddamn letter aloud for all of Gotham to hear. The look in Blake's eyes nearly killed him that day.

He was stunned when the young former detective showed up on his doorstep the day after tossing his badge away. There was something in his eyes then, something desperate, something needy that Gordon had accepted without needing to know why.

Something had caused Blake to walk back into his life and Gordon accepted it. He welcomed it. He was lonely, during those weeks where Gotham pieced itself back together. The city desperately needed him. That was the only reason he'd kept the job as commissioner. And Blake filled the emptiness in his soul.

This, though. He didn't want this. Didn't want to be reminded that he'd already failed this young man.

"I woke up and noticed you were gone." He tells Blake tiredly, going to pour another cup of coffee. "That's all." He curls his fingers around his mug, focusing on the warmth.

Then there's a hand on his hip, and another on his shoulder.

"I couldn't sleep, so I took a walk." Warm lips brush the back of his neck and Gordon is suddenly, painfully hard. "Sorry if that worried you." He turns and there's Blake's eyes looking up at him. "It's a hangover from...." He trails off. Gordon knows without him speaking. Blake enjoys his freedom now that he has it. Even though it's been years since he was there in the orphanage, even though it was a safe place, he still wakes, feeling trapped.

"Of course." Gordon shakes his head. "I’m sorry."

He's barely gotten the words out before Blake’s kissing him, pressing him back against the kitchen counter, eager lips moving on his own. Gordon never ceases to be amazed at the energy his young lover has. Blake's body moves effortlessly against his own when they have sex, his bare young form looking beautiful in the moonlight.

'I've been extraordinarily lucky,' Gordon thinks.

Blake sinks to his knees, smirking up at him with that faint curve of his lips that makes Gordon weak in the knees.

He still tries to urge Blake off his knees because there's something about this that makes him uncomfortable, like he's taking advantage of Blake.

Blake shakes his head obstinately, fingers digging into Gordon's thigh. "Hey," he leaned in to kiss Gordon's skin, a quick caress of lips. "I'm here because I want to be. Got it?"

"Got it." Gordon repeats, eyes focused on the slim dark head as it descends. He shivers as Blake's mouth closes over his cock. Gordon closes his eyes. He's never known such joy as in moments like these. Never known such pleasure. Blake's teeth tease over his cock, as his fingers stroke Gordon's balls lightly. He can feel his balls tighten and Blake pulls off wetly, grinning up at him.

"I want you to fuck me."

Gordon's cock hardens even more as Blake stands, unzipping his jeans, pushing them down. He moves back, leaning against the kitchen table. Gordon takes the initiative, moving to stand between Blake's spread thighs. He kisses Blake quickly, wrapping his hand around Blake's cock, stroking him until the younger man is upright in his hand. Then Gordon releases him.

"Don't go anywhere." He heads down the hall. He can hear Blake mutter, "Bastard," after him. Gordon chuckles as he fetches the lubricant from the bedroom drawer. He takes a second to gaze at himself in the hallway mirror.

"How did I get here?"

When he gets back to the kitchen, Blake's jerking himself off lazily.

"Hey," Gordon shakes his head at that and the younger man's hand pauses.

Gordon slicks his fingers, watching the way Blake tenses and then relaxes as he eases his fingers inside him. It's always at this point where Gordon loses his inhibitions, tossing aside what reserves cling to him. This is real and he won't give it up.

His first thrust inside Blake is rough, possessive. Blake's hands grip the table edge, as he arches up to meet Gordon. "Fuck, yeah. Just like that." He bites his lip as Gordon moves again, sinking deeper into him.

He can hear each beat of his heart as he fucks Blake on the kitchen table he's eaten breakfast at for the last twenty plus years. That is unless he was out on patrol late again. The scent of coffee fills the air and Gordon considers that maybe it’s time to move. Maybe he needs somewhere where there will only memories of Blake and him.

"Hey," Blake says sharply.

"I'm here," Gordon assures him, leaning down to kiss him. For the first time in years he's fully present in his home.

* * *

It doesn't help the next night he wakes to find Blake gone.

There have been rumors that Batman's not gone, that he's been spotted. Nobody wants to admit it; nobody wants to confirm it. Yet Gordon hopes. It's one of the few things he's still good at.

Gordon manages a week without questions. He can’t tell if that makes him trusting or naïve. Then he waits, and the next time Blake slips from their bed, he's ready.

He follows Blake in his car, out of the city. Blake clearly doesn't notice he's being followed which worries Gordon. The kid is still such a goddamn rookie after everything he's been through.

Then he loses him.

Gordon waits by the side of the road for an hour or so. If Blake's returning to the city tonight, he's going by another route.

Maybe he should let it go. Let the boy keep his secrets. But Gordon's a cop, through and through. He can't. Not even after what he's done. He needs to know.

He starts taking the night shift again. If he's gone Blake doesn't have to fake sleeping beside him.

* * *

Except the younger man brings him coffee one night up on the roof.

"You still come up here." Blake observes, looking around. His eyes slide over the Bat-signal and away.

"Helps me think." Gordon says gruffly.

Blake looks like he wants to say something, then, instead nods to the Bat-signal. "Ever think about turning it on again?"

"Sometimes." Gordon tells him. It's true. He still hopes to see that figure swoop down out of the sky.

Blake nods. "See you back at the apartment later?"

"Sure thing," Gordon hates himself, but he can't tell Blake no. He's weak and he doesn't care.

* * *

It's two nights later that he gets a call from an excited young cop, too young to know better. "It was the Batman, sir. I saw him!"

Still, Gordon doesn't allow himself to believe it, not until he gets another call about a masked man fighting a gang of thugs.

It's him, but it's not him. The figure moves quickly, but differently than the man Gordon's watched all these years. This man is strong, but not trained It's not Bruce Wayne.

So who is it?

Gordon waits until the last thug has been dispatched before he steps out of the shadows. "I'd like a word with you."

The faker, whoever he is freezes, then without a word launches himself off the rooftop.

"Well, shit." Gordon sighs. It wasn't like he'd planned to arrest the man.

He goes home to an empty apartment, finishes the cold pizza in the fridge and crawls into bed, too tired to shower.

It's nearly five by the time Blake joins him silently, easing his frame along Gordon's, carefully trying not to wake him. Maybe it's enough. Maybe he doesn't have to know where Blake goes.

And maybe he'll retire from the force and they'll go to live in Paris and Blake will be an artist and Gordon will spend his days drinking wine in the sun. Sure.

The next morning he catches sight of Blake getting out of the shower. There's a nasty bruise along his torso that stops Gordon in his tracks.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Oh, some guy tried to mug me last night." Blake says casually. "It's okay. I used to be a cop, you know. I can take care of myself,"

"Looks like you're doing a hell of a job," Gordon snaps. He dumps the rest of his coffee in the sink and leaves.

It could have happened, he supposes. Or it could have been somebody younger, somebody better qualified to give Blake what he needs in a filthy alley, instead of the bed of a tarnished commissioner. Fuck. That shouldn’t make him hard, but it does, and Gordon grits his teeth and goes on with his day. He buys coffee and thinks about Blake up against the bricks, letting some stranger suck him off. Or fucking him, or that mouth on some other man, a million different things Gordon knows he has no right to be pissed about.

What is he going to do? Every day he sinks deeper into this pit he dug for himself. The sand is filling up around him and he can’t get a foothold. Maybe he doesn’t want to.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s 8:30 in the morning and Gordon goes to the liquor store. He buys a bottle of scotch for later.

Once at the office he goes through his paperwork and tidies his desk.

In the late evening when his shift is done, Gordon takes his scotch up to the roof. He’s halfway through the bottle before he finally gives in to the urge that’s been crawling up his spine all day.

He switches it on.

The signal soars upward like it’s the sign he’s been waiting for. The sign that hope can go on, that he can go on. The light is golden and lights up the sky. Gordon takes a long swig from his bottle and waits.

The faker doesn’t show.

Gordon didn’t really expect him to.

He trudges home, not giving a shit that he’s weaving slightly. The rain starts when he’s halfway there. The bottle is almost empty by the time he finally gets to the apartment. Blake isn’t there and Gordon lets the bottle roll across the kitchen table idly. He strips off his wet clothes tiredly, leaving them strewn across the apartment as he makes his way to the bathroom.

The hot water cascading over his skin revives him somewhat. He drinks the rest of the scotch once he’s in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, watching the rain fall over Gotham.

He’s exhausted, but he can’t sleep.

When Blake’s key turns in the lock, it’s nearly dawn. Gordon drains the last sip, letting the burn linger on his tongue and waits.

“You’re still up?” Blake stops in the doorway. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead. Under his clothes he’s shivering, but there’s a flush to his cheeks, an adrenaline propelling him forward and Gordon feels himself retreating backwards. He can’t touch whatever it is Blake’s involved in.

It occurs to Gordon that he doesn’t know what Blake’s doing with his days now. He had said he had a part-time job at a bookstore, but now Gordon’s not even sure he can believe that.

“Couldn’t sleep.” His words sound a little slurry. He’s not drunk, is he? The bottle’s empty. Is he drunk? He stifles a chuckle.

“Come on, you should go to bed.” Blake heads over to help him. The bottle’s right there; he has to have seen it.

“I don’t need your help.” Gordon pulls away. “I don’t need anybody’s help.”

Blake just stands there. “Is that why you turned it on? Cause you don’t need anybody’s help? You just wanted to chat?”

Gordon leans against the wall. Everything is blurring slightly. Blake sounds so accusatory. “You saw that huh, out on your walk?”

“Yeah.” Blake answers defiantly, but his shoulders hunch and Gordon knows without a doubt that he is lying.

“Good for you.” Gordon pushes past him into the bedroom. He needs to lie down. His head is pounding. All he wants is to sleep and forget.

“Why’d you do it?” Blake follows him.

“Wanted a chat.” Gordon mumbles as he sinks down onto the bed, head in his hands. “Like you said.” Oh god, he wishes he could just talk to the Batman. Just once more.

“You still think he’s out there?”

Blake sounds so hopeful. It makes Gordon’s head ache even more. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He snarls. Blake stares at him, but Gordon keeps going, pushing himself to his feet. “Like for him to be the one who’s left here. Bet you’d forgive him for that lie.” That goddamn lie that he thought was a good idea at the time. It was the Batman’s suggestion, but Gordon had gone along with it. He's the one still paying for it.

Blake stares at him, and then punches him.

Gordon reels backward, but keeps his footing. He swings a punch, but it’s wild and he smacks into the wall. Light explodes behind his eyelids and he crashes to the floor. Dimly, he’s aware of the light receding until there’s only darkness.

* * *

When Gordon wakes in the morning, mouth dry and a hangover the size of Wayne Manor, Blake is gone.

Gordon lurches to his feet slowly. He needs a shower. He needs water. He needs…Blake.

He gets the first two things. The shower takes effort, but it helps clear his head. Aspirin and water and he’s dressed and out the door. His reflection looks like shit when he passes a store window, but what does that matter?

Gordon tells himself all he has to do is get through the day, but he’s not so sure. The other cops eye him sideways. He knows the bruise on his jaw is still prominent.

He takes a long lunch, sitting in a crummy diner with a cup of a black coffee and a sandwich he has no stomach for.

He can’t bear to go back to the apartment and find it empty.

When he sleeps at last, it’s on the couch in his office.

Around three AM, Gordon wakes, restless. Something, some noise woke him and he can’t figure out what it is. He goes to the bathroom on the next floor to splash water on his face. Passing an open window, he catches sight of a familiar glow in the sky.

Somebody else turned it on this time.

Gordon grabs his jacket from his office and goes up to the roof.

The man he still calls the faker is standing there, waiting for him. Slighter of build, younger, Gordon guesses. The suit fits though, so he assumes it's been altered. Where do you find someone to do that?

“Took you long enough.” The faker mutters.

The voice is different too. Not that rasping growl Gordon’s gotten so familiar with. No, this is darker, quieter. Gordon has to strain to make out the words.

“I had other things on my mind.” Gordon leans against the railing and waits. The man called him up here after all.

“He’s not coming back. At least as far as I know.” The words sound uncertain, and there’s something there Gordon can’t put his finger on.

“So how you’d get the suit?”

“He left it to me.” The faker says, like it’s that simple.

“And I’m just supposed to believe that.” Gordon has had a lot of conversations with a man in cowl on this roof, but this one is the worst yet. “You could have stolen it, tried it on for fun.”

“Do you think anyone would put this suit on for kicks?” The faker throws back at him.

Gordon shrugs. “You tell me.”

The faker has him backed up against the roof edge in a second. If he just leans back, he’ll fall out into nothing. Maybe…

For once, Gordon doesn’t finish that thought.

“You have to trust that he did the right thing, just like I have to.”

“Why’re you here?”

The masked man steps back. “I’m going to need your cooperation in the future. I thought I’d start on it now.” He holds out his hand.

Gordon hesitates. Against everything, he wants to believe in this. Wants to believe that Bruce Wayne had enough foresight to find someone to carry on for him. Yet he hesitates, because he doesn’t share the same history with this Batman as he did the one before him. It’s the suit, but the man has changed.

Can he live with that?

Gordon decides in a split second. He’s lived with worse.

He holds out his hand and they shake there on the rooftop in the glow of the Bat-signal. The new Batman holds his grasp a fraction longer than Gordon would like and then releases it.

“You should go home, Commissioner.“

“Oh?” Gordon raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“You have someone to go home to.” The man disappears into the shadows with Gordon staring after him.

He swallows dryly and then heads down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The scent of cooking wafts through the front door as Gordon unlocks it. His heart lightens even though he won’t let himself acknowledge it. When he opens the door, Blake is there in the kitchen, shirt-sleeves rolled up as he stirs something absentmindedly, one eye on his watch. He looks over his shoulder and sees Gordon. Lowering the spoon he wipes his hands on a towel.

“Smells good.” Gordon offers tentatively. 

Blake shrugs. “It’s just pasta. But I got wine.” He raises the wineglass that’s standing on the counter. He pours a glass and holds it out to Gordon.

Gordon accepts the wine silently. Blake drains half his glass and tops it off. He’s nervous for once, that tiny tell-tale twitch when he glances at Gordon and then looks away. Gordon hasn’t seen him this nervous since he was really a rookie, shy whenever Gordon even glanced in his general direction. Gordon can still remember the first time he saw Blake in a room full of cadets. 

He keeps that image locked away, something precious, pressed between the pages of memory.

“Do you want to…” Blake gestures vaguely toward the table, only to knock the pan of pasta across the floor. “Fuck.” He stares at the mess he’s made and just shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Gordon takes over. “Go sit on the couch.” He prods Blake toward the living room, pausing briefly to turn off the stove. The mess can wait. He carries the bottle of wine out to the living room where Blake is now sprawled across the couch, feet half on footstool.

He gazes up at Gordon. “Did he come tonight?”

For a moment Gordon doesn’t register the words, he’s too busy taking in the sight of Blake, rumpled shirt and tousled hair, lines under his eyes and worry creasing his face. 

“What?” Gordon blinks, returning to the moment.

“The Batman.” Blake mutters, bringing the wineglass to his lips. “Saw the signal.” 

“Oh.” Gordon hesitates. He hadn’t thought what to do yet about this. Should he tell Blake the truth? Some version of it? Let him live in the hope that Bruce Wayne had returned? But all it would take for Blake to realize the truth was one glimpse, just as Gordon had realized.

But he’s going to know the truth sooner or later. 

“Yes.” Gordon says at last. “He did.” There is a Batman out there in Gotham. Not the one he wanted to see, but one he’s glad of nevertheless. That’s something. There’s someone out there, willing to take on that mantle. Someone willing to be that guardian in the night. For the first time in a long time Gordon thinks that maybe things will be okay.

Blake sits up suddenly, spilling wine across himself. “Shit.” He looks up at Gordon worriedly. “I’m not drunk, I swear.” 

“It’s alright.” Gordon assures him, then, “It’s your turn after all.”

Blake laughs, then hiccups. He pulls at his shirt, examining the stain before unbuttoning it and pulling it off. He’s wearing a thin undershirt underneath and Gordon’s fingers itch to pull it from him, baring his skin to the night. 

“I’m not drunk.” Blake assures him. “I’m just glad.” He smiles up at Gordon.

“Why’re you glad?” 

“That he showed up.” Blake’s fingers inch up Gordon’s pants leg. “That you weren’t disappointed tonight.”

“I wasn’t disappointed tonight,” Gordon tells him, “But that’s because I came home and you were here.”

Blake’s hands pull at him and Gordon sinks down onto the couch, straddling him. Blake’s arms wrap around him, drawing him closer. 

Gordon kisses him, gripping Blake’s jaw as he traces Blake’s lips with his tongue.

“Want.” Blake murmurs under his tongue, his hands now on Gordon’s belt, pulling it free. He’s got the fly open while Gordon’s still focused on kissing him. Then Blake’s hands are on his cock, drawing him out. 

Blake gets his own jeans down, wriggling out of them while Gordon pulls his undershirt off. Blake’s naked underneath him. His hands tug at Gordon’s torso as their bare cocks rub feverishly between them. Their bodies move against each other in a steady rhythm. Blake’s skin is tantalizing against his clothed form. Gordon is desperate for it, cock straining against Blake’s. The friction is gloriously invigorating. He can feel the sheen of sweat spreading across his back. Gordon comes, spilling across Blake’s crotch and belly. Blake gasps as Gordon takes him in hand, urging him to come without saying a word. 

Blake trembles in his palm and then shouts as he shoots over Gordon’s hand. 

They’re a mess. The whole apartment is a mess. But they’re whole. Tonight, they’re all right, whatever tomorrow is. 

“Bed.” Blake murmurs. 

Gordon agrees, nudging the younger man up from the couch. They make their way sleepily down the hall to the bedroom. Gordon shucks his stained clothing while Blake stretches out upon the bed with a happy sigh. Gordon joins him once he’s undressed. He pulls the sheets over them and Blake slips an arm around him, rubbing his head drowsily against Gordon’s chest. 

“I’m sorry.” Blake whispers in the dark. 

Gordon strokes his hair and says, “I know.” They’re both sorry for things they can’t change. The question in his mind is, is being sorry enough? Or will this guilt between them eat away what exists until there’s nothing left but tattered shreds? 

He can’t let that happen.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning Blake doesn't ask any more questions about the Batman, which surprises Gordon but leaves him relieved as well. He's still trying to think how to deal with the return of a Batman who's not _his_ Dark Knight.

"I got a new job," Blake says over his cereal. "Security guard at a computer warehouse."

"Ah," is all Gordon says, but it's enough. He gets it now. Blake's still struggling to figure out what he's supposed to do with his life now that he's given up the police force. Gordon can't blame him; Gordon can't blame anybody much these days, but sometimes he wishes Blake would change his mind. Having the younger man at his side, knowing he was somebody Gordon could count on. It would have meant the world.

But it's Blake's choice and Gordon respects that, even if his wishes are different. A security detail job's nowhere the same as a detective position. No wonder Blake hadn't wanted to tell him.

Well, now he knows, and he knows there's a new Batman in Gotham.

Gordon feels positively lighthearted.

* * *

For about two hours. Before he remembers that the main computer warehouse in Gotham is still in the process of being renovated after Gotham started rebuilding. There's no point to guarding it right now. Blake could have gotten work at a computer store, sure, but not a warehouse.

Gordon leans on his desk and comes to a decision. If Blake's still coming home to him, then maybe it doesn't matter.

Every night though? That's the most painful part. Every goddamn night. Gordon takes a deep breath and releases it. Blake's young. Probably restless. He wouldn't stay if he wanted to go elsewhere.

"Enough," Gordon tells himself. Enough.

* * *

A month passes. Blake's looking more and more exhausted. One afternoon Gordon has to swing by the apartment to pick up some papers. He finds Blake asleep on the couch. Gordon watches him a moment and then leaves.

There are the bruises too. Blake has an explanation for every single one. He's getting better at lying, Gordon notices. He reminds himself that's a useful skill that could save Blake's life, and not just another betrayal.

Gordon takes a weekend to go visit his kids. Philadelphia's nice. The air smells clean. He considers asking for a transfer.

But his kids are growing up quickly without him. They don't need him as much, especially with the new stepdad they have. Gordon can't even hate him. The guy's too nice.

No, he'll stick with Gotham. It's in his blood, like it or not.

When he gets back from Philadelphia, Blake pulls him into the apartment, down the hall to the shower. Shower sex is one of those things Gordon's always felt too old for and Blake always reminds him that he's not.

* * *

"You should be home, Commissioner."

"No point." He shakes his head. "My..." Jesus, what can he call Blake? Lover sounds absurd when said aloud. Same for boyfriend. "...partner," he finishes at last. "Is seeing somebody else." That's enough of that, the last thing he wants is to discusses relationships with this man of all people.

The Batman pauses, gazing at him. "You know that for sure?"

"Doesn't take a genius." Gordon shrugs.

"Just a detective." The Batman says softly."Why haven't you said anything?"

"It doesn't have to be the end." Gordon says simply. "I don't want it to end."

"No ultimatums?" The Batman asks, sounding amused.

"I've never been fond of those." Gordon admits. "I always lose."

The Batman paces. "How much does it matter?"

Gordon considers this.

"If he never came back one night."

At that, Gordon's chest tightens. He doesn’t say anything at first, then, "I'd go on. Because that's what people do. I'd continue. But the world would be emptier." _My world would be empty._

The Batman doesn’t say anything in response to that.

When he gets home around three, Gordon's surprised to find Blake already there. "Early shift?" he asks as casually as he can manage.

Blake shrugs. "Actually, they're cutting work hours for the time being."

"Oh," Gordon doesn't know what this means so he waits.

"I was getting sick of it anyway. I'm switching to this new all night coffee place," Blake continues, finishing his beer. "But they can't offer as many hours so I'll be around more." He glances at Gordon over his shoulder. "You might even get sick of me."

"Unlikely." Gordon chuckles. He doesn't believe in coincidence though. What are the odds Blake decides to stick around on the same night Gordon spills his guts to the Batman?

_Younger. Slighter of build._

Gordon suddenly can't breathe. He's crazy for even thinking it, but what if he's not? Not two hours earlier he saw a gas bomb ricochet off the Batman's chest plate. There'd be a bruise by now.

"Here," Gordon murmurs, reaching for the hem of Blake's t-shirt. He pulls it over Blake's head slowly, and there on his chest is a darkening bruise.

Gordon skims his fingers over Blake's chest without comment. "You around more. I'd like that."

Blake's smile assures him he's doing the right thing. But what about Gotham? Gotham needs Blake too. Tonight though, Gordon is selfish. Tonight he's not willing to share.

He kisses Blake's bare chest silently, until he can't wait any longer and they go to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning it seems even more ludicrous and yet even more believable that the young man sleeping peacefully beside him is the Batman. Gordon almost wishes Blake were cheating on him. At least Blake would be safe then.

Gordon sighs, sitting up, rubbing his eyes in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking any more.

Blake stirs, but doesn’t wake.

‘Why don’t you just tell me?’ Gordon thinks. The idea that Blake can’t trust him with this is too much. He gets up and heads for the shower, moving like an old man.

* * *

Gordon tells himself it’s a test. Dropping a snippet or two of information to the Batman, seeing what Blake does with them afterward. Sometimes he acts upon them, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he comes home when Gordon casually tells the Batman he’s tired of long hours and just wants to see Blake. Sometimes he spends the whole night in the bed beside Gordon.

It’s more the conversations though that Gordon finds himself looking forward to. He can talk to the Batman, really talk, whereas conversation with Blake is still a stilted, strained thing. Blake can only lie about shifts at a coffee shop so many times. He doesn’t want to hear about things that happened at the station. The bureaucracy still infuriates him. So Gordon doesn’t tell him about his day and Blake can’t tell him how he spends his nights.

As the Batman Blake can tell him things he’s unable to say when they’re alone in the apartment together.

Things Gordon wants to hear.

And sometimes things he’d rather not.

* * *

“You miss him.” The Batman says quietly.

It’s not a question so Gordon pretends to be absorbed in drinking his coffee and watching the city streets far below. The other man stays silent beside him though until at last Gordon sighs and nods.

“Yeah, I miss him.” Every day he wakes and wonders if they could have done anything differently, all the way leading back to that night eight years ago. Or even further, when he first heard that rasp in the night. _Now we’re two._

The Batman doesn’t say anything more, just starts to spread his wings and depart.

“I’m glad you’re here though.” Gordon’s voice stops him. “I’m glad you care.”

“Somebody has to.”

“Not everybody’s up to this kind of commitment.” Gordon takes another sip of coffee. “I hope you have someone at home that you can…”

The Batman’s gone before he can decide how to end that sentence.

“Well, that figures.”

* * *

When he gets home that night, Blake’s just getting out of the shower. “There’s Chinese in the fridge.” He tells Gordon as he dries off.

Gordon nods absently from the bathroom doorway, watching the towel slide across Blake’s body. He sees the younger man with new eyes now. Bruises scattered here and there across his torso in varying degrees of color. His knuckles are raw from punching. When he walks past Gordon, Gordon stops him, taking his right hand in his own. Blake’s still silent as Gordon lifts his hand to his mouth. Tenderly, Gordon brushes his lips over each injured knuckle.

“I’m okay.” Blake reassures him.

“I know.” It’s not about that. Gordon lowers his hand and then kisses Blake’s cheek.

Blake responds eagerly, pushing Gordon up against the wallpaper in the hall. There’s something hungry about his body tonight, the way he leans into every touch with Gordon.

“You,” Blake pulls off. “You have no idea what you mean to me, do you?”

Gordon’s head rests against the wall as he eyes Blake. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“I’m serious. Jim.” Blake never uses his name. Too much time spent in the academy, Gordon’s always the commissioner. “You’re the only thing. That’s why,” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you.”

Gordon’s surprise is swallowed by Blake kissing him again. Whatever he was going to say in response is gone, taken by Blake’s lips, softer and stronger than anything Gordon’s imagined.

Blake gets his shirt open, kissing his way down Gordon’s chest, mouth pressed against skin.

Gordon’s fingers are in his hair, caressing Blake. Then they’re sliding to the floor in a tangle of limbs, and Gordon considers moving to the bedroom, but Blake’s here, now, under him and Gordon kisses him. This is good. For now, for eternity. The carpet is soft under his feet, but Blake’s mouth is drawing him in and Gordon is lost.


	6. Chapter 6

A month passes. Gordon gets used to the way things are. People can get used to anything, he reckons. If this is all he’s going to get, he’ll take it.

Then, one night after Batman’s brought down two thugs who were setting fire to a pharmacy, it happens. The thing Gordon hasn’t even allowed himself to worry about for fear of making it happen. 

There’s a cop car there, two uniformed officers calling it in, while Gordon talked to the Bat. One of the thugs gets a gun as he’s about to be handcuffed and shoots, wildly at the Batman. The only reason it matters at all is the range. The man’s too close. 

Only Gordon sees the Batman reel backward for a second, and then straighten up. He punches the thug calmly, knocking him out and turning him back over to the police. 

He turns to go and Gordon catches his arm. 

“Go home.” Gordon whispers hoarsely. “I’ll see to it.”

The man’s eyes stare at him through the slits and all he gets is a nod before the Batman’s gone, down the alleyway.

It’s not enough. Gordon follows him, cursing everything that made him think this was a good idea. He catches up with him just in time to see the Batman fall heavily against the bricks.

Gordon’s beside him in an instant. “Goddamnit, Blake.” He pulls at the cowl, revealing Blake’s face. So young. 

“He told me to wear a mask.” Blake’s voice is weak. “To protect those I care about.”

“Shh.” Gordon tries to get him quiet. He has to get him to the hospital. 

“I didn’t want to take it up.” The words come out in a hoarse whisper, a pale reminder of that other voice in the night. Gordon freezes. “I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wanted him to come back…and I wanted it too. I thought maybe if you thought he was back, you’d be happier.” 

“That’s.” Gordon shakes his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, rookie.” 

Blake’s unconscious by then. 

Somehow Gordon gets him into his car without anyone seeing. He hopes Blake parked the Bat somewhere where it can stay hidden for a few days, but he can’t worry about that right now. 

He gets Blake to their apartment, where he strips him out of the suit, stashing it in his closet. He puts Blake in a sweats and a t-shirt before driving him to the hospital. The young man’s still unconscious and Gordon can’t help worrying that his desire to protect the Batman has cost him Blake’s life.

He explains it away at the hospital. “Gun accident. Ex-detective fooling around. You know how it is.” 

There’ll be questions, but nothing he can’t handle. A fraction to the left and the bullet would have hit Blake’s heart. That’s what he can’t handle. 

They wheel Blake away and Gordon slumps against the hospital wall. He feels exhausted down to his bones. 

* * *

It’s a long night.

He drinks coffee and waits besides his partner’s bed. Partner is the right word, Gordon’s decided. He’s partners with Blake and Batman. Personal and professional. The two sides of his life fully connected for the first time in his life. 

“How long have you known?” Blake asks hoarsely. 

Gordon sets his coffee down. “Since that night you said you’d be around more.”

Blake just looks at him, trying to get a read on him. “I did want to tell you, but,” 

“It’s okay.” Gordon’s hand closes on Blake’s, squeezing it. “I know why.” More than anything he understands this. Later, in bed, he will tell Blake how wanting one man to return doesn’t interfere with his love for another. The one here, in his arms. But that can wait. 

Blake traces his thumb along Gordon’s hand. “Gonna try to make me quit?”

“Could I make you do anything?” Gordon asks dryly.

Blake grins faintly. “You could try.”

“I’m saving my energies for more important things.” 

“Good.” Blake murmurs drowsily.

It’s not entirely true. Gordon knows he couldn’t make Blake do anything, and he wouldn’t risk losing him in the process of trying. He knows Blake’s never going to be able to choose, not any more, just as it was impossible for Wayne to give up the cowl. 

It’s not an easy thing to carry the truth of the Batman. Gordon simply hopes that he’s strong enough to bear it, standing beside his partner. 

* * *

Gordon rolls over in bed and finds empty space.

For a moment his heart stops, then he hears the shower and faintly, the sound of Blake whistling. 

Gordon closes his eyes and smiles before drifting back to sleep.


End file.
